


Whitecaps

by Vishihan



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Merformers, Multi, Multiverse, Sirenformers, Xeno, funerary cannibalism, sapient species being farmed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vishihan/pseuds/Vishihan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rework of Depths</p><p>Chap 4<br/>Lockdown and Pharma work out a bit more of their relationship. NSFW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Main Verse: Pharma: Thoughts

Altihex was the farthest thing from the metropolis of Praxus. Altihex Island was the smallest true island in the Iacon archipelago, the farthest from the equator, though the weather was tolerable. It was also mainly scrub land and rocky coasts unlike Iacon Island’s pristine white beaches and carefully cultivated landscapes to appeal for the tourists or Praxus’ private beaches, clean and quiet retreat for the locals. 

It was suitable for his needs. Pharma settled on the edge of the dock, a fleece line hoodie and sweater keeping off the spring chill as he watched Lockdown’s fin break through the water, as the mer surfaced. He watched the sleek form of the tiger shark turn tightly and dive again, the collection bag following behind. Lockdown was enjoying himself, but the mer was a creator of simple pleasures.

Once, Pharma had lounged on the leather couch in one of Praxus’ sought out penthouse apartments, reading medical journals on his tablet and sipped high end cognac, lulled by the Empyrean Suite and the scent of Tarn’s cologne . Back when the only thing he thought would make everything more idyllic was to take over for Ratchet as the dean of medicine for Praxus General and maybe Tarn’s approval. 

At times he wished he had his original hands back. They were blue and white plating now, fingers decorated with gold and silver swirls peaking from his jacket sleeves. He rotated them, flexing the talon tipped ends, memorized slightly from the way the light shined off the sharp edges. The aesthetic of his prosthetics was clearly Lockdown mixed with mer, deadly weapon and perfect tool and more dexterous then when they had been flesh, bone, and blood. Pharma couldn’t fault Lockdown’s work, it was flawless.

After months of being unable to feed himself or more embarrassing relieve himself without constant help, the prosthetics had been a blessing. Allowed himself to reassert his independence and treat patients. The merfolk under Tyrest had accepted him as a medical provider easily enough, the human smugglers had more doubts but no secondary option, outside of treating themselves. 

It had been just another trap, Tyrest was less subtle about his manipulation then Tarn, but Pharma had found himself once again working for another addict, bitter and angry, allowing his own pride to blind him. 

Tarn had led to him losing his hands in a car accident, Tyrest had left the heavy keloid scars encircling his neck, and nearly dying was becoming an unfortunate fact. Lockdown left miniscule cuts on his lips and tongue as they kissed. Pharma would fearlessly dive his tongue between the little adorable gap of Lockdown’s fanged maw where the gum tissue was damaged to explore, the serrated edges leaving tiny clean wounds as they broke apart and left a faint taste of coppery blood. 

At times he wished he had never met Tarn when he was a struggling medical student, living off caffeine and late night takeout in front of the low glow of a computer screen. Hadn’t allowed himself to become enamored with the cultured stranger, ignored Ratchet’s warnings, and moved in with him during the summer months and stayed instead of returning to the dorms come fall semester. 

Now, he lived in a mobile home, had a gps bracelet attached to his ankle, and his only company was a tiger shark mer, and their parole officer on the satellite phone and bi-weekly visits. He went from having a professional career and active life to being a hermit who spent his time learning needle point to work on his fine motor skills, sprawled over a slightly damp mer who skin was similar to sand paper. 

He jerked slightly as cold sea water splattered him, a sack of fine netting clattering up on the dock. “What’s up with the long face, doll?”   
Lockdown slung an arm over the dock, swinging himself up a moment after. Pharma shut his eyes as the sickeningly crunch of transformation was heard. He had watched it once and had nightmares for days after. 

He opened his eyes again at the comfortable weight of the mer against his side, the smell of brine in his nose, and sea water damping his jacket. “Do you have to?” He questioned, not expecting an answer, but instead leaning slightly in. 

“Whatever, princess.” Lockdown replied, pulling the sack into his lap and started to shell scallops, fingers of his prosthetic arm rotating away for the useful hook. Pull out shellfish, insert blunt edge of hook, pry, and scoop out the muscular tasty insides and set on the tarp. 

Asparagus maybe, Pharma considered, thinking of sides and wondering faintly how he ended up this domestic. Maybe cauliflower and broccoli mix to go with the olive oil seared scallops. No wine, he wasn’t allowed to have alcohol on parole and there was no way for him to leave and purchase any on the side. Tea would have to do. 

“Still haven’t answered my question,” Lockdown says, hands continuing their motion, grab, pry, snick, and plop of good size muscle on the tarp and the splash as they discard the empty shell into the water, and then repeat. 

“Why you are a jerk?” Pharma questioned, the chill of the day working through his jacket and sweater as the dampness spread. Lockdown is a solid weight but cool, merfolk tend to leach heat instead of radiate it. His hair is also starting to get wet, red strands sticking to his skin. 

Lockdown snorted, craning his neck to look down at him and Pharma finds his attention focused on the drop of water running down the bridge of the mer’s nose. “Pay attention, luv. If I have to ask again, I’ll eat these all by myself.” Lockdown missing a tooth, leaving an adorable gap in a mouthful of razor fangs and Pharma partly wants stick his tongue through there and run it over the rough bumpy roof of Lockdown’s mouth and partly wants to punch him. 

He settled for pushing off Lockdown’s arm, not sure how the prosthetic ended up around his shoulders and standing up. “You’ll make yourself sick,” he replied, reaching down to gather the tarp, and started off to the trailer. “Going to start cooking these.” 

Lockdown’s lip curl disgusted, showing the gap again. “Gross.” He turned back to the mess of shells in his lap. He picked up one, pried it open and then shoved the scallop muscle unceremoniously in his mouth, chewing. 

“So are your table matters,” Pharma replied, pleased to get the last word in and started back to the trailer.


	2. Alt verse: Raoul: Seasalts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the 1990’s merfolk have been hunted for their flesh to regress cancer progression leading to faster remission and better survival rates. In the early 2000 instead of harvesting a merpup, Raoul freed him from lobster pot lines and struck up a friendship since. It’s 2016 and between the trawling damage, enormous bycatch rates, and rising acidity in the oceans, nearly all salt water is a vast wasteland. There is nothing left for Tracks and the decimated pod here. And there no guarantee that the plans going to work. But all Raoul has left is borrowed time and he’s going to do something with it

“The price went up.” 

Raoul paused in the reading of the new noticed tacked to the docks hanging boards, looking over at his cousin as she dragged a finger over the daily pricing lists. “On what?” He already knew, since his diagnosis there was only one listing that she checked daily. 

“Three thousand for an ounce of mer flesh,” she said, resigned and stepped away from the pricing list to join him. “I wish you would reconsider. They aren’t helping you. It could give you a few months, maybe enough time that we could save up some money, see about a go-fund me page, a chance.” 

“It’s not going to cure stage 4 lung cancer, Marie,” he replied, tired of covering this again. He had no insurance, they couldn’t afford the treatment, and he wasn’t about to let them buy an ounce of flesh. “Even with treatment the percentage of survival is lousy.” 

He looked over the pleas, hand written and printed with grainy pictures of loved ones and prices they were willing to pay. Ten year old with leukemia, a grandfather trying to hold on for a marrow transplant, an aunt hoping to keep her lupus from flaring up, hundreds of pleas some from cities hours away fighting for room and for an independent fisherman to sell piece meat instead of selling the catch to the dock warehouse. 

“And even if you brought it, I wouldn’t willingly eat it,” he looked over the crowded harbor, the line of people crossing the yard and the heavily armed staff making sure everyone stayed in line and waited patiently. The harbor was no longer open to the casual public, instead each individual had to give their reason to the gate security and produce money up front before being allowed to enter. 

“Hope whatever you have with that creature is worth dying for, cuz.” She pulled into herself, running a hand over her arm, looking everywhere but his face. “All it seems to do is put you farther in the ground.” 

“Just go home Marie,” he turned away from the docks, slowly starting the long trudge up the hill. He ignored the sound of her flipflops behind him, steadily putting one foot in front of the other despite the pain in his chest. “Following me?”

“Tony just text me… a group is planning to raid one of the breeding farms. They’ll cut us in, if we agree to be mules.” 

“That’s,” He stopped, sitting down as he started to cough thickly, wetness splattering his hand and groan. “Gross.” Raoul sighed at the bright splatters of blood decorating his hand, throat sore and tasting copper. “… thanks,” he muttered taking the wet wipe and cleaned the traces from his skin. 

Marie frowned down at him, and sighed, passing him a water bottle and more packages of wet wipes. “You’re getting worse.” 

“I know, and still no. Text Tony that he and whoever he roped into that mad idea are idiots. Wild mers don’t even attack the farms anymore because of the security.” 

Marie rolled her eyes and stomped her foot. “Uggh, you give those animals too much credit. They are just smart animals, they aren’t people, Raoul. You are worth more than them, and Tony can handle himself just fine.” 

She sighed. “Just, text me when you start thinking straight. I’ll talk to you at Abuelas.” 

Raoul nodded, tired of arguing about everything. “Later, I’m going to be late.” He wanted to talk to Tracks, and that met walking to the closed down secondary harbor. He shoved the wet wipes in the pocket of his jeans and gripped the water bottle tight, starting the journey. 

Dusk was starting to settle when he arrived, the tide ebbing back into the ocean. Multiple breakwaters had meant to make it safer for ships, giving a sheltered place to make port on the rocky coast. It had been abandoned when a group of mer pods showing surprising unity had scuttled every ship in the port. A large cruise ship was sunk at the mouth of the breakwater and had become their favorite meeting place. 

He lifted up the bottom of the orange snow fencing closing the harbor to the public and slid underneath, heading towards the longest pier. He toed off his sandals and rolled up his jeans before dipping his feet in the water, waiting. 

He didn’t have to wait long before strands of light uncoiled from the shadow of the wreck. It was always captivating watching Tracks become define, limbs unfurling out in a skirt of tentacles, pulsing in blue bio lights. 

Tracks floated at the dock edge, wrapping one of the thicker main tentacle that worked rather like an extra arm around the piers post, smaller tentacles feelers fanned out. “Raoul.” 

“How’s my main mer?” Tracks looked okay. Too thin, but that was true to all the remaining wild mers. Raoul looked him over, not detecting any new injuries on the jellyfish, the old ones shinny against his hide. 

“Been better,” Tracks said simply, shrugging a shoulder. “You?”

“Got diagnosed, didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know,” Raoul admitted looking over the calm waters. “Fourth stage lung cancer.”  
The barest trickle of water announced Tracks leaving the safety of the water, arms pulling him up and over onto the dock, heavy tentacle like feelers curling under him as the rest hung limp without the support of the water. 

Raoul shifted slightly closer to the other, enjoying the silent companionship as the sun slowly sunk down into the water. “Sorry, I miss our last get together. Everyone just been treating me different, as if they expect me to kneel over dead. They keep pushing for me to eat better. Drink this, try this, stop doing eating that.” He shifted, leaning back across the dock, ignoring the wetness seeping into his clothes. “Worse part is, I know this is a death sentence and they keep believing they can fix it.” 

“It, it’s alright you missed our last meeting. I expected something went wrong,” Tracks replied, rolling over to his stomach, tentacles spreading out over the pier. “Things often go wrong now.” Tracks picked at the pier’s boards with his fingers, the slender talon like nails idly tugging at splinters of wood. 

“Sometimes I think about if things were better you know? If my job had actually offered insurance, or my dad got that promotion they been saying he in line for.” Raoul watched Tracks pick and destroy the boards of the ailing pier, sharp nails gouging into the wood. “I’m out a job, my dad taking as many extra hours as he can. My mother trying to get a second job… everyone trying to help.” 

“And?” Tracks murmured, shifting to look down at him. Blue eyes large and shining, glowing almost in the fading light. 

“And I should feel happy that they all want me to live and have a happy life, but instead I’m pissed that they aren’t taking care of themselves.” Raoul admitted, reaching up to cup the cool skin of Tracks’ cheek, fingers brushing by the ornamental ear fins and sighed. “I guess I just wanted them to not so much give up but focus on the days I’m here now. Not struggle to make things meet to give me days I’m unlikely to have.” 

Tracks chuckled and Raoul smiled, feeling the tiny vibrations run up his fingers. “I got you something,” Tracks said and shifted, pulling away and Raoul gave a tiny noise of want as he leaned over the dock, fishing something with his tentacles. 

The column of Tracks spine was clear, knobby and sharped as he fished about with his main tentacles, the larger appendages focus on searching for something under the water. “There it is,” he tipped his head back, grinning and the fading light caught his mouth full of fangs just right, the prominent tips nearly glowing in the glare. 

“I have the strangest hard on and it all because of your fucking fangs,” Raoul grumbled, sitting up and looked at the small squashy looking package in Track’s tentacles. It was wrapped in a matte fine netting bumped in bladders and he was familiar enough with mer crafts to know it was woven from various seaweeds. 

“You say the nicest things to me,” Tracks dryly teased, handing the package over. “This is only one part of it… the rest depends on if you are going to accept or not,” he said, looking away, tentacles curling slightly. 

“Un hun, and it suddenly making you nervous.” Raoul felt the package, it felt like there was two items in it, maybe. He opened the toggles, looking to be made of tiny bits of coral, and pulled out a tiny disk, decorative sea dollar? He set it aside and turned to the second package that was coated in some sort of paper thin shimmery wrapping. It tore easy under his fingers, showing something fleshy. 

“Is this merflesh?” Raoul questioned, looking at the square of flesh in his hands. Little bit bigger than a deck of cards, and he was holding something that was worth about fifteen grand that could fit in one hand. 

“His name was Chase and he was a Red Snapper… he knew about you. Nearly everyone knows about you by now.” Tracks said, looking at his hands, idly picking once again at the dock. “Died of na… well as natural as you can get for a mer.” He snorted loud in the silence. “This isn’t an attempt of a cure… it’s an invitation.”  
“And invitation to what?” Raoul breath, looking up, fingers curled up around the flesh. “I… fuck, I know this is a big deal. I don’t.” He couldn’t find words for this. “This is just… so unexpected.”

“To the conclave, our home,” Tracks said, looking down, fiddling with the edge of a tentacle. “Yoketron made the breather, I talked Cyclonus into ferrying you the distance, and Chase gave permission.” He tilted his head, staring at Raoul. “One last adventure.” 

“I know what ever Chase gave, it was more than freaking permission,” Raoul squeaked. Death was sacred to the remaining merfolk. This, this was more than anything that he could have imagined. He looked at the square of cold flesh in his hand. “This better be some adventure,” he said finally and lifted it up, biting into the corner. 

It was cold, not rubbery, but certainly chewy and tasted of salt and sometime he couldn’t explain. It was gone fast and settled strangely light in his stomach but hung heavy in his thoughts. Raoul finished and carefully wrapped up the small disk. “Is there a prayer?”

“More of an offering and sincere thoughts, we tend to food items, of weapons and weaves, and things that would be of use when Chase finds the end of the undercurrent and the entrance of the shallow shoals,” Tracks replied. “Chase was always fascinated by my stories… so anything you choose will likely be appropriate.” 

“I can think of a few things,” Raoul said, slowly flipping the tiny breather about. “How does this work?” 

“The prongs are pushed into the roof of your mouth and then it converts the oxygen in the water into something you can breathe… but that is for later.” Tracks stretched, tentacles unfurling and curling in and out. “It’s getting late.”

Raoul shifted, standing up slowly, wrapping the disk in cloth and slipped it in his pocket. “It is. Tomorrow?” The sun was nearly gone, and he had a long way back. 

Tracks shook his head, “Three days from now, at the sunken wreck.” He nodded out towards the mouth of the bay, framed by the man made breakwaters. “We’ll meet you there.” 

“Keep safe.” Raoul said, watching Tracks slip into the water, a blurr of blue biolights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Tracks – Box Jellyfish.  
> Sirens and Merfolk are related, but are different enough to warrant the change in tag, more on them in upcoming chapters.  
> Welcome to the Alt verse, it is a scary place.  
> Feel free to drop me a line in the comments about information on mer culture, the islands, universe, etc you would like to know about in the notes. 
> 
> Mer hunting – Mers have been caught as by-catch in all universes, they have never traditionally been thought of a food item due to their human like features. Part superstition, part taboo since it does hint of cannibalism. 
> 
> In this universe during the 1990s, a young father was desperate enough to try anything to help cure his daughter cancer he turned to non-traditional medicines, including manta ray gill plates. Eventually he stumbled on a child’s bed time tale about a young girl that ate the flesh of a mermaid and lived eight hundred years. He turned to fishing ships and finally found a fisher that would sell him the flesh of a merfolk. 
> 
> Surprisingly it worked, and he told his daughter’s friends parents about it, and they told others, and eventually a study was done finding that mer flesh was not only high in antioxidants but contained an enzyme that attacked abnormal cells.  
> Which lead to commercial hunting and later commercial farming in attempt to boost rapidly failing populations.


	3. Main verse: Tourism season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year before tourism season, officials meet up to discuss concerns and changes to make for the safety of the tourists and the merfolks and other marine creatures that call the archipelago home. 
> 
> Alt summary: Mers really don’t have a concept of pet animals vs food animals. Poor Mr. Tinkles. Poor Prowl.

“Thank you, Red Alert, for your detailed reports,” Orion said, handing off the multiple three ring binders to his intern for further in-depth analyzes later. In which, he would talk to Red Alert’s assistant and get the crib note version. 

“On our next agenda point, the case of Mr. Tinkles and fourteen others canines vs the mer population,” Orion read off. “If you would take the floor, gentlemen?” 

“Simply put, fifteen canine pets were killed and devoured by merfolk last year,” Prowl started, wishing that they would stop referring the issue as the case of Mr. Tinkles. “It was also the first year we allowed tourist to bring their pets with them, and we had not considered the impact in relationships between tourist and the migrating merpods that use the archipelago as a nursery ground.” 

“Or,” Ironhide drawled from next to Prowl. “Merfolk are rather bad at separating pets from possible food.”

“Ahem,” Prowl leveled Ironhide a frosty stare, getting a smug look in return before returning to the topic. “As I was saying, all incidents happened when the pet in question was off leashed and allowed to roam the beaches or docks in the early hours of the morning or dusk. Poor visibility and distance from humans likely lead to the local population believing they were food.”

“And Merfolk are well known for eating about anything,” Ironhide drawled. “It not really a surprise they consider canines as food, they probably look close enough to seals or in the case of Mr. tinkles, probably took him to be a small rat.” 

“It is possible,” Ratchet admitted, considering it. “Depending on the Merpod in question, the hunting of small mammals from the shoreline and riverbanks has been a known occurrence.” He tapped a finger thoughtful. “Depending on the Mer, it could be simple curiosity of what is this animal and is it a possible food source. Some of the younger ones experiment.”

“Thank you, both.” Prowl replied, a hint of ice in his voice. “The plan is to set up noticeable signs reminding all guess that leash laws are in affect for all beaches and docks, and that mers can and will take small to medium canines.” 

“Thank you, Prowl. When can my office expect the designs for approval?” Orion asked, used to the bickering and checked that off the list. 

“By the weekend,” Prowl replied. “I would also like to motion for Kalis leash laws to apply to Iacon city.” 

“Seconded,” Ironhide replied. 

“Is everyone ready to take a vote, to apply Kalis’ leash law ‘That the owner or keeper of any dog must keep it on leash on any coastal strand or dock. Violators will be fine on the first offence up to 200 dollars’, to Iacon city?” Orion asked, counted the hands. “Five for, none opposed, Bumblebee, please make a note to contact our handbook publisher to make sure that is included.” 

Bumblebee nodded, pulling out his phone to start texting to the publisher about the change, fingers flying over the screen. 

“And I believe the last thing on our agenda is approval or rejection of the newest short videos submitted to the board of tourism by some of the local interest groups.” Orion looked over towards Metalhawk. “If you would?” 

“Thank you, sir.” Metalhawk stood, walking to the front of the table and unrolled the projection screen from the ceiling. “While we were sent several short films, only this one was picked to go on for official approval.” He walked over to the projector, connected it with his laptop and stated to pull up the file. 

The projection screened filled with an image of a fat happy merpup with a tang tail and cheerful bold letters, proclaiming Merpups across the top. He touched the screen to start the video, and adjusted the volume so the cheerful tune could be heard around the conference room. 

/“Welcome to Iacon city,” A clear female voice said as the screen turned to a wide screen of the island and surrounding ocean. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to our pristine beaches and lively oceans. We wish your stay to be pleasant and full of cherished memories.” 

“One of our greatest attractions is our wildlife, mainly the merfolk that migrate here to have and raise their pups in our clear and lively ocean. For your safety and the wildlife, we ask you to follow a few rules.” The screen changed again, showing a small group of mer pups playing in the shallow water of one of the uninhabited island.  
“Mer pups are very adorable, but please do not attempt to touch any merpup or get closer than sixty feet. You may not be able to see the adults, but they are always watching their young and are very protective. To insure your safety, please keep a safe distance from them while boating or enjoying other activities in the water.” 

“If you suspect a merpup is beached or abandoned, contact the Praxus rehabilitation center and the nearest coast guard. They will send the nearest trained individual to the area to assess the scene and make sure the pup is properly cared for.” The voice continued, the local number to both organizations running across the screen.  
The video continued, changing to one of the popular local docks. “At times, merfolk may come up to the docks. We ask you kindly to not feed any mer that may come up to the docks or from any private ship or cruise that is not license to do so.” 

A small mer popped a head up out of the water and giggled. “Merpups are very cute, and might beg with their big eyes, but they are not able to properly digest many of the foods we enjoy. These ingredients include gluten, lactose, artificial sweeteners and colors, caffeine, and preservatives. So we ask you please do not feed them.”  
“We thank you for visiting, have a nice day.”/ 

Metalhawk closed down the vid and closed his laptop. “One of the graduating students of the local college created this for extra credit during their summer class last year.” He turned off the projector and returned to his seat. 

“Cute, bit sugary but different enough from the other information currently displayed on our tourist board site,” Metalhawk folded his fingers, resting them on the table. “Gentlemen?” 

“Not bad,” Ratchet replied, tapping a pen against his notes. “While we do have signs in various areas reminding people not to feed the marine life, we still get a few dozen calls to tend to mers and various animals that responded badly to food they were given. This could help by appealing to the masses by just being cute and short.” 

“And save us the cleanup of another xylitol incident,” Ironhide replied, wrinkling his face in remembrance. “Worse day yet.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Ratchet grumbled. “That was pure stupidity, and if we could wrap this up? Some of us have job to get back to.” 

“Is there any objections to the video?” Orin asked, and nodded. “Metalhawk, the video is cleared, and this meeting is over, yes?” He questioned, looking up at his intern as Bumblebee tapped his shoulder. 

Orion took the phone to read over the text messages. “Thank you, Bee. Thank you everyone for coming,” Orion said, handing the phone back to his intern. “Meeting is adjourned.” He said, getting up and gathering up his agenda list. 

Ironhide joined Orion, slinging an arm around the other’s waist and took half the binders from Bumblebee, leaning into murmur something into Orion’s ear that made him laugh before they left. 

Red Alert followed soon after, muttering quietly to himself, phone in hand and frantically texting. 

Metalhawk stood and strolled over, pausing between Rachets and Prowl’s chair. “Could I snag a few moments of your time to discuss a possible crime,” he beginning, standing at ease. “One of the videos submitted contained video I’m not sure was legally obtained from the rescue center.” 

“Mmh?” Ratchet questioned. 

“It featured Lockdown,” Metalhawk continued. 

“Yes… I think we should.” Prowl stood pushing the chair in. “In your office?” He questioned and with Metalhawks nod, followed him out of the conference room with Ratchet. 

 

\----  
So am I happy with this chapter? No, not really. But here it is.  
Finals projects and Summer rush at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes  
> Prowl – Officer of the law  
> Ratchet – Runs the Mer rehabilitation in Praxus  
> Orion Pax – Mayor  
> Bumblebee- Intern  
> Ironhide – Coast Guard  
> Metalhawk – Tourism board official  
> Red Alert – Health and Safety inspector 
> 
> Four main though on Merfolks 
> 
> 1st and smallest: Merfolk are sapient and should have rights equal to people.  
> Merfolk have shown human like intelligence and culture and should be considered people instead of animals. This group wavers on if Merfolk should have rights to own property/land considering that most pods are nomadic following the migration of fish and aquatic mammals. A lot of merfolk pup grounds are also popular tourist areas. 
> 
> 2nd – Merfolk are neat and very smart animals. Should be left in the wild, actually not human intelligent but more like elephants and chimpanzees. 
> 
> 3rd – Merfolk are animals not people and should have less protections in place. There is a lot of restrictions on commercial and private fishing, from the type of gear to the numbers that can be harvested. The aquarium trade also suffered a hit as many species of coral, sponges, and other sea flora became more protected. 
> 
> 4th –Merfolk are scary mothers that will take over the world and murder us all in our sleep. The paranoid. Merfolk are so human they are plotting to take over land and rule everyone. Least favorite group to deal with. 
> 
> Marine merfolk diet – Tends to be about 80% animal protein and 20% a mix of seaweeds and fruits. The animal source in question depend on the merpod, some pods diets is mainly fish, other pods target marine mammals, following seals and occasionally working together to take whale calves. 
> 
> Fresh water merfolk- tend to have more of a variety in their diet, it is not unusual for freshwater mers to camouflage themselves along the shore lines and spring up when prey goes to drink, taking everything from birds to creatures as large as elk.


	4. Main vers: Lockdown -Kissed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lockdown doesn’t know how Pharma gathered the courage to trust him after Tarn’s bullshit. He’s going to do his very best to lick and nip every trace away. And leave a trail of hickies down that gorgeous battled damaged neck so everyone knows his claim.

Curled around Pharma in the tight space the full size bed allows, Lockdown can’t believe he is this lucky. His partner is wrapped in a purple cotton sheet, worn in places where it caught and rubbed against on Lockdown’s rough scales, Pharma’s narrow body pressed up against his chest, and that neck is in his reach, splattered in healing marks. 

Pharma neck is a mess of heavy scar tissue, knotted and looped. A reminder of what Pharma survived and Lockdown can still faintly taste the copper of blood and sharp acidic fear. The vivid imagery still lingered beyond his eyes and he traces each scar with a talon tip, swirling over the dip and valleys. 

His tongue and lips followed, tracing the tough tissue slowly, watching the spread of red over the patches of smooth white skin that had been untouched. The blush spread up to Pharma ears, and he sucked on the lower lobe, nose buried into the red hair. 

Pharma smells of his shampoo, some sort of fancy oil shit, and under that is arousal and a faint trace of old scent marks. Lockdown chirred into the red silky mass, combing it out with his fingers. 

“Really?” 

He chuckled, pulling back to look down into Pharma flushed annoyed face. “What?” Lockdown traced the kiss swollen lips, grinning sharply at the small human against him. “Upset that I like your hair?” He teased, leaning in to press his lips to the freckle brow, and slid down, kissing the tip of Pharma nose. “Or that I stopped nibbling on your ear?” 

He bypassed the plush mouth to lap over the scars, tracing up to nip lightly at the pointy edge of Pharma’s jaw. “It’s certainly not the love marks,” he rumbled and laughed as Pharma twisted, putting one of those blue and white hands, cool to touch and hard, against his chest and shoved. “What you trying to do?” 

“Will you just lay down already,” Pharma huffed, squirming as he struggled to sit up, hampered by the sheet. 

Lockdown chuckled and shifted, reaching back to grab the hefty wedge pillow from the floor. “Where’s the wedge?” He called, not finding the heavy black pillow. 

“It should be down there.” Pharma called and Lockdown grunted, feeling the solid weight of his lover sprawled across one side of his back, the thin barrier of the sheet the only thing keeping his back scales from rubbing the sensitive skin raw. Pharma’s talented fingers stroked over his fin settling to scratch around the embedded gps device. “I certainly haven’t moved it.” 

“Going to throw out one of your finger sensors if you keep doing that.” He grumbled, raising the blanket of the bed and tugged the wedge out from beneath the bed. “You sure you didn’t kick it under here?” 

“You’ll fix it,” Pharma replied simply. Lockdown snorted and gave a shocked noise as he felt small blunt teeth latched on the tip of his fin. “Did you just fucking bite me?” He questioned, pushing back. “Pharma, off.”

Pharma bit him again, and Lockdown squirmed, chocking down shocked arousal as the pressure of blunt teeth marking him went straight to his groin. “Phar...”

“Do you like this?” Pharma inquired and dragged his teeth down the edge of the fin before giving a sharp bite. 

“Yes.” It wasn’t the most common place for play bites, let alone claiming bites, but Pharma had never marked him back before. Lockdown rolled a shoulder back, craning his neck to look behind him. Pharma was flushed, pinked across his cheekbones and bright eyes focused along his back. “Still want me on my back or changing the plan?” 

Pharma stilled, fingers tracing lines down his back. “Still want you.” 

“Mmh, k, shift over.” Lockdown sat up when Pharma finally shifted and placed the wedge down, testing till he was comfortable, supported and not squishing his dorsal fin. “Now, what are you going to do princess?” 

“Use you,” Pharma replied, tongue peeking out between swollen lips, wetting them. “Grind against you till I climax and maybe have you lick me clean.” 

“Maybe?” Lockdown rumbled, cupping the firm ass draped in the cotton sheet, pulling Pharma close. 

“Use you,” Pharma rasped, shifting to straddle the mer, cotton of the sheet puddling over his hips. “You like cleaning me, don’t you.” 

He smirked under Pharma, feeling the slight weight settled, the heat and press of Pharma arousal against his belly through the thin barrier between them. “I like you, beautiful,” he drawled, stroking slow circles. He grinned wider, watching Pharma sputter. 

“Shut up,” Pharma grumbled and leaned close, resting his head against the broad chest as he sought out a rhythm. 

Lockdown stroked the soft skin at the small of Pharma back, listening to the tiny little noises of pleasure as the bright red hair tickles against his skin. Pharma buried into his chest and his red hair is hiding his face from Lockdown’s view. Pharma is fragile when seeking out completion, his hands dig into his shoulders, and Lockdown can feel a trickle of blood drip. 

He buried his face into Pharma hair, murmured wordless encouragement, fingers working in small circular motions, not minding the slight pain as fingers clenched. The sheet bunches, tangled on his scales, keeping Pharma skin from abrasion as he rubs and grinds. 

Lockdown groaned, heat trickling between his legs. Pharma shifted, eyes dilated and wide behind the mess of his red hair and Lockdown shifts, craning his neck to look into the pretty depths. Pharma moved forward, seeking a kiss and Lockdown rumbles as they meet, feeling the inquisitive tongue seek out the gap in his teeth and the press against the roof of his mouth. 

Pharma broke away, panting, beautiful flushed. He pushes and Lockdown willing slides farther down, till Pharma laying on top of him, grinds less frantic and slower rolling motions. Lockdown can feel his slit clench in want, there is a deep pressure in his sheath. There is wetness between their stomachs as Pharma’s arousal drips, leaving sticky trails. “You good?” Lockdown questioned, setting a hand across Pharma back, feeling the muscles work. 

“I.. I’m fine,” Pharma sprawled over his chest, giving slow steady grinds, fingers seeking out the little trails of blood. “You on the other hand.” 

“They’ll heal,” Lockdown brushed it off, watching Pharma face and groaned as leaned in and lapped the blood, licking up to give a slow suck over the wound. He clenched his thighs, licking his lips as he watched. 

Pharma smirked, sly and sharp. He shifted, giving a liquid little shimmy before rubbing a trail a blood away with his thumb. “You like this?” He questioned, bringing the thumb to his mouth and licked, wrapping his tongue around the digit. “Should I clean you before you clean me?” 

“Fuck, yes.” Lockdown groaned and tipped his head back, feeling the tongue across his hurts. The sleek body slowly grinding and the growing ache of want. They needed to invest into some toys, something nice and he whined as Pharma bit down. 

Pharma chuckled above him and shifted, pressed against LD groin. “Could let yourself out… if you want,” he murmured. “Not nice for me to keep you pent up.” 

“You sure?” Lockdown questioned, reaching up to cup Pharma chin. “Don’t have to.” 

“I’m sure.” Pharma kissed one of the wounds, eyes half lidded. “I want to go farther, with you.” 

Lockdown nodded and relaxed letting his member slide out of his sheaf and rub against Pharma’s. “Think we can smuggle in a request for some good toys and lube next shipment?” he questioned, slowly rubbing back. 

“Maybe, I think I can manage something.” Pharma dropped his hand down, seeking and slowly pressed against Lockdown, feeling the shape of the member. “Can I do something?”  
“Go ahead,” Lockdown replied and gave a soft pleased noised as Pharma took them both into his hand and started to stroke. Pharma nose was scrunched slightly, eyes focused and mouth partly open as he watched himself jerk them off. Brilliant and beautiful dork. The hand was cool against his sensitive skin and Pharma’s member was hot and wet. 

He chirred, giving a small jerk as hot fluid sputtered over his belly and groaned, following over. Lockdown tugged Pharma closer, lazing in the afterglow and the warmth of the human against his cooler skin, and the bunch of the cotton sheet. “Good?” He rumbled when he found his voice. 

“Good, clean me?” Pharma questioned, sprawling out beside Lockdown with a grin. 

Lockdown grinned and shifted, looking down at Pharma. “Thought you would never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mer courtship fact one –Kissing is mostly unknown to mers, considering they have a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. Hickies and love nips though are a very common way for mers to show affection to each other. 
> 
> Merfolk size, from head to tail, most merfolk fall on the scale of 6 feet to 11 feet in length. Most mers average between 8 to 9 feet. 6 is on the smaller side and 11 is on the large size. Most merfolk weigh between 400 and 700 lbs. 
> 
> Shapeshifting compacts a lot of weight and length. LD is 300 + of solid muscle. 
> 
> LD + Pharma are going slow and this has been the first time I wrote smut in ages. Maybe the first time I posted it an solo. 
> 
> The Wedge is a type of body pillow, mostly to keep Lockdown elevated so his dorsal fin doesn't end up squished.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 
> 
> Takes place on the Iacon archipelago, Iacon Island is the largest, Altihex is the smallest island. 74 landforms make up the Iacon archipelago. 
> 
> Iacon is a major tourist island, everyone local lives on Praxus. 
> 
> Merfolk are very well known and are a protected species. 
> 
> Lockdown – Tiger Shark Merfolk.
> 
> Shapeshifting – Not the most common ability, while all mers can shapeshift, most won’t leave the safety the water offers. Proper shapeshifting demands a lot of practice. 
> 
> All Merfolk continually regrow teeth that are damage or missing as long as the gum tissues hasn’t been damaged.  
> Lockdown case is very special, since he is being ran through human correction systems instead of Merfolk’s. Merfolk criminals are given to their pods. Lockdown doesn’t have one, and Merfolk don’t have set rule in punishing loners besides chasing them out of pod territory. 
> 
> Pharma – spent three months is a hospital, two and a half years in a federal prison, he’s on parole for another five.


End file.
